


Doubts

by seraph7



Category: Football RPF, Tennis RPF
Genre: Bisexuality, Closeted Character, Depression, F/M, Female-Centric, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, Media Intrusion, Press and Tabloids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 00:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3308237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraph7/pseuds/seraph7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bastian and Ana spend Christmas in Australia all loved up and happy, but when Lukas starts phoning up late at night, things start to unravel. </p><p>He's in crisis about his stalled career at Arsenal, is very depressed about his prospects and needs the reassurance of his friend. </p><p>When she overhears one of their conversations, she realises that things between them are more serious than she'd ever imagined.</p><p>How will she react, and what happens next when her friends start revealing just how entwined Lukas and Bastian truly are and giving her conflicting advice?</p><p>Can you really truly be in love with two people at the same time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I am actually writing this, but maybe if I get it out on paper, it'll stop taking up valuable mental real estate. So, no, haven't forgotten any of my fics in progress, and I'm working on updating them all. Things have just been a bit tough IRL. Never really thought that I would be writing Football RPF either, but here I am
> 
> I sort of wanted to write something about Basti and Ana from mostly her viewpoint because it was a bit of a challenge and I haven't really seen anything too similar so far.
> 
> I would also like to give a wee shout out to HGRising, who kind of gave me the final push to actually writing this on Tumblr.
> 
> Obviously this is all fiction, and should be read as much.

The phone calls came late at night and she was starting to dread and anticipate them. Bastian's phone would go discreetly in his pocket and he'd pull it out like a long honed reflex. He'd look at the screen and the relaxation and happiness would drain from his strong features, the line of his mouth thinning. He'd sigh, but he would never refuse to accept the call, no matter what they were doing. 

"I'm sorry, Ana, I have to take this-" Basti would murmur and she knew she'd lost him as he would disappear into another room for what seemed like hours. His mood never seemed to improve afterwards. She knew that it played on his mind while he slept, she could hear him muttering darkly in his sleep, preoccupied and fretting over those late night calls.

After a few days of this, her curiosity peaked. _Who was he talking to, and why did they have to ring so late at night, every night when they were on a well-earned holiday and trying to bond a bit after months apart? Was it so important?_

* * *

A week earlier, Munich Airport

Ana waited in the arrival lounge waiting for the flight from Munich, cap pulled over her face to discourage too much attention from fellow travellers and fans. 

Most of the time she didn't mind being recognised and signing a few autographs, smiling for a fan selfie or two, but she was trying to be a little discreet on this trip. After all the media attention she and Bastian had drawn walking hand in hand in New York, they were trying to keep things low-key until there was a bit more public acceptance of their relationship and things had settled down. She had never realised that there would be so much public interest in them and their relationship and not all of it positive.

She was looking forward to spending more time with him over the winter break, and she was pleased that she'd managed to persuade him to join her for a family Christmas in Australia before she started training for the first matches of the year in Sydney and Brisbane. They were both busy and successful athletes, her on the Tennis courts and him with the German National Team and Bayern.

The passengers from the Munich flight made their way off the plane to meet those waiting for them. Ana held up her sign and waited for him to notice her. Everyone else was awaiting arrivals just like her, so no one spared her any notice.

A hand lowered the notice and she saw Bastian's smiling face in front of hers.

The sign dropped to the floor as he kissed her thoroughly, hands sliding around her waist and pulling her close. She wound her arms round him, eager to get closer, craving the intimacy she'd missed for months. Phone calls, hurried session on Skype and emails really weren't the same.

“I’ve missed you.” she said leaning in to kiss him once more.

“How long have we got until the flight comes?”

“Not for three or four hours, I think.” She swung her hand in his rather like an over-excited schoolgirl, her wide smile dimpling with pleasure. "Come on, let's find something to eat, you must be starving. I definitely am!"

*

His hand kept straying to cover hers, as if he still couldn't quite believe she was here. Sat in a discreet corner table of the restaurant, they just looked like a everyday couple, her with no makeup, casual clothes and her long dark hair tied up, him discreetly smart casual, the light picking the flashes of silver in his blond hair.

"I scored my first goal of the season," He told her as they sat across from each other in the restaurant, "Just before the break."

She knew that his lengthy spell out with injury and the media speculation that went with it had been a worry to him. The expectation of the public weighed heavy, even if it was an honour.

"Against Mainz. We were 0-1 down, so it was just as well." There was a quiet confident pride in his voice. "Now, we've gone the entire Hinrunde unbeaten."

"I'm glad! I managed to see some of the highlights after the game." She told him.

He smiled, pleased that she had taken an interest in the game, for him.

"It'll be strange spending Christmas away from Munich." He mused, brushing his fingertips over her backs of her hand, his gaze softening.

"They're all dying to meet you. Milos and I have told them so much about you," she said blithely, "It'll be fine, there's no need to fret."

His brow raised a little, rather incredulously. It was sweet to think that he might be worried about meeting her family and what that said about the seriousness of their relationship.

“They’ll love you, I’m sure of it.”

*

On the flight

They boarded the flight to Sydney, laden with extra duty-free.

"You didn't have to buy so many presents, you know," She teased him with a twinkle in her eyes.

He turned to her in surprise. "I'm a guest, of course I do."

She rolled her eyes affectionately at him but didn't say anything as just then they heard their call for their flight to Sydney.

*

She rested her head on his broad shoulder, her eyes slowly closing with tiredness, feeling quietly content to be with him, as she idly scanned the book she was half reading on and off. To be honest, she couldn't really concentrate on what she was reading. The steady rhythm of his breathing as he dozed was soothing to her. It was a long journey, and the jet-lag was going to be dreadful once they arrived in Australia, but it was worth it, she felt in that moment.

A very young and polite Asian guy stood by their seat, clutching a mobile phone. He shuffled nervously from foot to foot, looking rather star-struck.

"Hi, I am really sorry to bother you, but um-"

Ana smiled at him, keen to put him at ease and let him get his picture. At least he'd had the courtesy to ask rather than invade her privacy, and she appreciated it.

"Please don't worry about it, it's fine." She assured him with a sweet open smile.

The fan stared at her as if he couldn't tear his eyes away. 

"It's just that...you know, I'm actually a huge fan...could I get a selfie with you guys?" He blushed and stammered rather endearingly.

Bastian was looking over at them with interest. She noticed that although he seemed outwardly relaxed he was not in truth, he was tensed and ready in case the situation changed rapidly, a lion readying itself for action.

"No problem." She could finally see him visibly relax.

"I don't mean to be pushy, but would it be possible to have a photo with both of you, if you don't mind?" The fan could barely hide his eagerness as he asked, practically vibrating with excitement at the prospect.

"Hey man, my family and I were riveted to the World Cup. You guys were awesome!"

"Danke," Bastian said, rather mollified by the young man's enthusiasm.

“You in that final with Argentina, you really took a beating, man,” He squinted at Bastian's face, unashamedly looking for the evidence, “Have you still got the scar?”

"It's faint, but yes, it's still there."

They posed for the camera with tired smiles and bleary eyes. Bastian's hair was fluffy and all over the place, but he still posed for the picture good-naturedly. His demeanour had softened distinctly once he was assured that they meant well, and he could relax his protective stance.

“Well, thank you for that. Have a good Christmas, both of you!”

"You too."

“There, that wasn't so bad, was it?” she murmured, sliding her hand into his and lacing their fingers together.

* * *

**BILD Office, mid December**

The hum of computers and phones filled the air as journalists trawled for stories one afternoon in mid December. It was the slow season and filling the pages of Germany's best-selling and notorious tabloids with a constant stream of news could be tricky.

"I would do anything for a juicy scandal right now! Damn, this is the worst time of the year!" one of the staff writers complained to their work mate across the desk. It was just before Christmas, and everyone's mind was on Christmas preparations, presents and office parties.

"I'm sure one of our sporting friends is good for some scandal. They usually are. No one been caught speeding? Driving without a licence again?" His workmate said.

"Not as far as we know," replied his friend from behind her computer screen. “Everything is slowing down due to the season break and Christmas, not to mention the January transfer window."

"Chatting up some girl in a strip club? No cheating?"

"The sporting editor is due back from lunch. Perhaps he'll have something suitable."

"I can't help hoping it's something good! Christmas can be so boring."

*

The Sports Editor had just come back from lunch and off the phone with one of his contacts in Munich. Most of the time he had to balance having access to one of Germany's biggest clubs with the fact that Bayern Munich were notorious for keeping their shit on lockdown. Prising a secret from them was like diving for deep sea pearls sometimes.

"We need to get out there early then, see what we can glean. He’ll be on holiday and off his guard, we’re bound to get some good pictures out of this!" The editor leaned forward with a familiar messianic gleam in his eye that the team knew well. He was in the scent of an exclusive, and he didn't care how he got it.

"No offence, boss, but -"

"But what?"

The writers looked at each other, as if to say: _shall you tell him, or shall I?_

"Schweinsteiger hates the lot of us. Don't you remember how he flat out refused to even speak to us for three years because he got all offended at one of our stories?"

"Well actually, it was more like a whole series of them," the deputy added rather unhelpfully.

"We didn't exactly hold back either," mentioned another journalist.

"I won't deny that he's been very good for business," The editor could not help looking a little smug as he said it. "He used to be better, but then he got all serious about the time he discovered his ambition. No more 'Schweini the party-boy'!"

"So what do you want us to do, Boss? What's the angle?"

"Keep digging, there has got to be an 'in' somewhere?" the editor said decisively, coming up with his strategy to get as much value out of the story as possible, "I want three of you on the story, if you're successful, then we'll see about extra photographers coming out as back-up. We had a team flying out to Qatar anyway. Why not send them on a profitable detour?"


	2. A Family Christmas

Ana and Bastian were dead on their feet by the time they got off the plane. Despite the fact that it was December, it was still hot and humid. It felt odd to go from cold and frosty, nearly snowing in Munich to this summery heat, but the seasons were all different on the other side of the equator.

He went to go and collect their luggage, while she kept an eye out for her brother, Milos who was going to pick them up and take them home. Frankly she couldn’t wait, she was sorely tempted to hibernate with Basti and not leave their room for a week, simply to get re-acquainted with one another intimately, but she had training for the Australian Open and there was Christmas to think of. Still, she hoped they would get a little time to themselves.

Milos waved as soon as he saw her wheeling her trolley through arrivals, grinning broadly at the sight of them. She was so pleased to see him and she knew that she would need his back-up in order to make this holiday a success. It helped that he had already met Bastian and got on with him.

“Hello, stranger!” Milos hugged her tightly, talking nineteen to the dozen in Serbian, exuberant and happy to see his sister again.

“Milosha, we’re going to have to talk in English,” she reminded him as she hugged him back.

“Hey Basti, how was the flight?” he said, clapping him on his back heartily, “Great couple of games before the break, man!”

“Very long, I have to say I’m glad it’s over now.” 

"Well, you're going to have fun. All our Australian relatives arrived yesterday morning, and guess what? They won't stop going on about your man and when they’re going to meet him.”

They pulled up to the house, which was festooned with streamers and balloons.

"Welcome to the madhouse!" Milos said dryly as Ana nudged him.

“Everything will be just fine, Basti-” she reassured him before they got out of the car.

*

There was a crowd of relatives all waiting to be introduced in a whirl of names and faces. It must have been confusing for Bastian, who had just come off a flight from halfway round the world.

Bastian found himself shaking hands and meeting a whole host of Ana's family. Everyone looked at him with unabashed curiosity, eager to meet Ana’s new boyfriend and find out exactly what he was like.

“So you're the young man our Ana has brought home with her for Christmas.”

"At last we can put a face to the name! Bastian, she said?"

"Yes, that or Basti. I haven't been called Sebastian for years, I don't know if I would respond to it any more if you did, you know."

Aunt Magdalena and her uncle Adnan were asking extremely nosy questions, endlessly curious about him, but he took it all in his stride. Watching him charming her aunt and her mother, twinkle in his greenish eyes, his broad sunny smile and generous expansive nature that had so drawn her in when they first had met, Ana started to feel as if this might actually work out fine.

*

If she had wondered how he was going to cope with a full family dinner, she needn’t have worried. Once Bastian had been introduced to the whole horde, he was laughing and chatting with them in English as if he had known them for half his life.

As they sat round the table for dinner, he was entertaining them with one of his tales, enthralling them and making them all laugh heartily.

“-they had warned us that the Bundeskanzlerin was coming to visit the team and we all had to be there, ready to be presented, but I genuinely forgot she was coming at four. So I was in the shower, without a care in the world... I walk out looking for my towel and robe and the entire room falls absolutely silent and then everyone bursts into laughter."

“I let out what was later described as a girly squeal of horror and fled for the safety of the shower. I just hear this feminine voice behind me calling: ‘Herr Schweinsteiger!’, and I knew the game was up, so I had to face the music and find out exactly how much trouble I was in.”

Everyone had to laugh at the impression he dropped into of Angela's Merkel's voice. The vivid way he described things, it was easy to imagine the scene as it played out.

Milos laughed, “So how much trouble were you in then, Basti?”

"Tons! She looked me up and down very slowly and thoroughly, and then says, cool as ice: 'Ah, Herr Schweinsteiger, good of you to join us', then my best friend Lukas took pity on me and handed me a towel and a robe."

"At least someone did! This Lukas must be a true friend."

Basti's smile was a little bit wistful. "That he is. The very best."

"Perhaps we'll meet him someday, eh?" Ana said brightly, “We could do dinner or something?”

An odd look passed over his face, just for a moment. If you weren't watching him closely as she was, you might very well have missed it. 

"Perhaps-" his voice was soft and distant as he adroitly changed the subject.

*

She loved the fact that he was making so much of an effort to be part of the festivities. Family was so important, and with her busy life as an athlete, she didn’t get as much time as she liked to see them all. That was why coming to Australia for Christmas to train fitted so well and it was so important that Bastian had been willing to give up his Christmas in Munich, and meet with her family. It showed how seriously he wanted to take this. She stepped out of the shower, drying her long dark hair with a towel when she saw him texting someone in bed. 

"Is everything alright, darling?" she asked.

Bastian swiftly whipped his phone out of sight, which instantly alerted her suspicions that something was up. _Why was he acting so well...suspicious?_

_Just leave it, you're overthinking it, there's probably a logical explanation for it._

"Sorry, I was just wishing a Happy Christmas to one of the team," he came out with hurriedly, the slightest glaze of colour on his high cheekbones.

She could have pushed back and challenged him, ask what exactly was making him fidget and blush, but she decided not to. She idly dropped her robe from her shoulders, feeling a zing of satisfaction as she felt his hungry appreciative gaze on her, travelling up the length of her legs, the curve of her bottom.

"Any way I can distract you, Basti?" she let her voice fall low, husky and seductive as she looked over her shoulder at him in invitation. The press of his lips on the nape of her neck and the urgency of his hands on her body was answer enough for her, for now.

*

The next morning they were woken up stupidly early by a remarkably chipper Milos, already dressed and ready for the beach, “Hey guys, are you coming to the beach?”

Bastian groaned and pulled the duvet back over his head, still suffering from jet-lag from the long flight.

“Five minutes...actually, make it twenty,” he groaned, as he groped around the bedside table for his glasses.

“I take it you’re not a morning person, then?”

“Not so much, I have to admit.”

"Since you're still struggling into the land of the living, I'll nab the first shower. Come on, Basti, it'll be fun!" Ana said, rousing herself.

Basti did not look entirely convinced, but he stretched, starting to wake himself up. "That's almost enough to get me to to join you, almost-"

She kissed him on the forehead affectionately, avoiding his attempt to delay her and keep her in bed, grumbling that she was keeping him warm. "Come on, sleepyhead, how can you resist Christmas Eve on the beach?"

*

Christmas morning was bright and balmy, so after all the family’s presents had been opened, everyone migrated to the garden to relax. The kids were already running around enjoying their presents and being noisy and the men were gathered in the sitting room talking. Her father and her uncle Adnan were talking to Basti about his career and future plans but he seemed to be handling it well enough, so she didn't feel as if she had to intervene just yet.

She helped her aunt and mother bring more food out from the kitchen. it was all very relaxed and casual, people were grazing and helping themselves, sauntering out to the garden and enjoying the sunshine.

“I haven’t seen you so happy in a while. Milos says you’re playing well too.”

“She’s our little princess, you know?” Her aunt said with pride, kissing her on the cheek and fussing over her, "Of course she is!"

Her Mother and her aunt exchanged knowing smiles as they saw how she blushed, “When it’s right, you know it’s right.”

“So is this it? you’re going to settle down now?”

“Hey, I still want to win a Grand Slam and an Olympic medal before I hang up my racquet, thank you very much!”

Her aunt gave her a shrewd look, not completely convinced yet by Ana’s protests, “So he’s not going to distract you, because these things can happen. You’re happy and madly in love and then, poff!”

“What do you mean: Poff?” 

There was a sharpness in her voice as she reacted to her aunt. While she and Bastian had actually discussed children in the future, she didn’t like the implication of her aunt. _Did she really believe she was that naive, or that manipulative?_

“Ana-”

“No, I’m just asking what does Auntie mean?”

“You're all happy and lovey-dovey with this man, but we don’t know him.”

“Of course not, that’s why he’s come all the way out here to spend Christmas with us.” Ana said patiently, even though she couldn’t help being a bit needled by her aunt’s pessimism, “-we both want the family to get to know him.”

“Can’t you see how happy she is with him, Magdalena?” her mother said soothingly, trying to keep the peace. “Whatever you fear is going to happen probably won’t in the end.”

Magdalena was not to be mollified, “That’s how it starts, you’re all happy with this man, you get careless.”

“Careless?” Ana really hoped she was not implying what she thought she was.

“Do we really have to do this now?”

“I see why you went for him. He’s very charming and amusing. There’s something very attractive in that,” Aunt Magdalena conceded with a sniff, “And the way you both look at each other. That’s what worries me, my girl, that you won’t be able to stop yourselves.”

“Stop ourselves doing what?”

“Lena, is there really the need? Stop-”

“Ana, you're not a child any more! You know what I mean, you’ll forget to be careful accidentally and end up barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.”

"Lena!"

She could either get annoyed at her aunt or laugh, and since she was actually fond of her aunt, despite her nosiness and ridiculousness, she decided to laugh. _Why argue on Christmas day and spoil the holiday?_

“He’s a good man, and he’s my equal. He gets how important this is to me, and understands my ambitions because he has his own. We’re serious enough about each other that I brought him here, and he wanted to spend Christmas with us, this isn't just some fling!"

“I never liked that Verdasco boy, I’m just saying, Drajana!” Lena clucked.

"Don't let's bring _him_ up again!"

“He isn’t like that, auntie.” Ana assured the older woman, "-I know he isn't."

“Ana, I didn’t mean to upset you, I just think you’re a beautiful girl, with the world at your feet. You don’t need a man who’s going to break your heart.”

Ana couldn’t help but scoff at the older woman’s fatalism. _Why even think that way when things were going so well?_ “Bastian isn’t about to break my heart, Auntie.”

The older woman sniffed, still not entirely convinced. “They never intend to,” she said darkly.

*

When she told him all about it later that night, exasperated at her aunt Magdalena’s ingrained pessimism, he took it in great part mostly, which surprised her. 

“You’re not offended by what she said?” she asked, curious to know why he was so laid-back about it.

He shrugged, “I wouldn’t do that to you. I know how important your goals are. As for your aunt, well, I knew it wasn't going to be easy to convince her of how I feel about you, but she'll change her mind in time. Your parents don't mind me, though?"

"They love you, Basti. You thoroughly charmed the hell out of them."

He nodded in satisfaction, mouth curving up into a smile of confidence, "Then that's what's most important, isn't it?"

* * *

On the Courts

The next morning she went back to work. He watched her practice with admiration and pride in his eyes, Ana had been a little bit sceptical about whether he was going to be bored just sitting and watching her train for her upcoming matches, but he seemed perfectly content and utterly relaxed and happy to sit by the sidelines as she sent shot after shot over the net.

“Great on the forehand, Ana!” her coach called out encouragingly.

She adjusted her visor, trying to block the fierce midday sun from getting in her eyes. “How fast?”

“109.”

“Okay, let’s get a decent rally up. Work up some rhythm.”

As soon as she took a well-deserved break she made sure to spend her time with Bastian. She perched on his lap, relaxing as she felt his strong capable hands go round her waist, steadying her.

He glanced upwards, indicating a couple of photographers above them. 

"They've been snapping us since we got here," He murmured, turning to see them taking photo after photo, watching their every move through their prying lenses, “They’re like piranhas, once one gets a sniff, they all have to congregate.” 

Part of her wanted to ignore them and go for a kiss, after all it was fairly obvious to anyone with eyes that they were in a relationship anyway, what was the difference?

She almost moved to do it and damn the consequences, but he subtly stopped her, “Don’t let’s give them any more ammunition.” he murmured.

"Does it really matter? I think it's pretty obvious by now, isn't it?"

“I care about protecting you,” he said, looking more serious than she had seen him on this holiday, “-these bastards can be brutal. God knows what they're scrawling right this minute.”

“I don’t care about them and whatever they might say,” she told him, “I want you here and that's what matters.”

He handed her a drink and she took big thirsty gulps, quenching and hydrating. All this hard work in the sun really did take it out of you.

“Thank you, I needed that.”

"Ana!" her trainer called in exasperation.

"I'd better go before he flips out," She sighed, prising herself away from the welcome embrace, and sighing theatrically, "A woman's work is never done!"

"You're doing so well, darling,” he reassured her, "it's a pleasure to watch you."

She raised her racket in a cheeky salute and got back to work.

*

Basti didn't remain idle for long. She noticed Angelique Kerber who was training at the same facility come over on a break and start talking animatedly to him. It didn't surprise her, she was a compatriot and they no doubt knew each other well enough.

"Why don't you have a knock around with me on the court?" Ana asked with a playful smile, as she had another break.

Basti welcomed the chance to be a bit active, after all he had been sitting there peaceably for hours, "Alright, where is the harm?"

She selected a racquet for him, one of her larger ones with an easier grip, "Just a game or two. It'll be fun!"

"Be gentle with me," he quipped, eyes twinkling.

She nudged him, joshing him as they reached the court. "Not a chance!"

* * *

As soon as the photographers spotted what they were doing, the cameras snapped busily, eager to capture the sight of a famous World Cup hero playing tennis with his superstar girlfriend.

One cameraman focused on them as he returned her playful serves, watching laugh and swap banter with each other.

"He's being a good sport about this, I have to say. Normally he would have kicked off if he'd realised that BILD and BUNTE were here." observed one journalist from the media area.

"Maybe that's the point. He wants us to see him and her together," implied his colleague with a knowing smirk.

"What, they're making it official?" said one freelance journalist, always on the look-out for new stories and leads who was preparing to scribble down some copy. If he hurried, he could try and make the evening shift, after all he was practically right here covering training for the Australian Open, why on earth not get some extra cash for some celebrity gossip?

“Wow, he lasted a lot longer than I thought he would, that’s for sure,” remarked one writer with a dash of cynicism, “Doesn't she get bored of her pretty boys in about five or six months, mostly?”

“How long has it been? When did those New York pictures come out?”

“I have to say it’s quite impressive he’s managed to pull her of all people. Nice work if you can get it!”

“I don’t know, he can be quite the charming one when he wants,” mused one columnist, “and you just watch him with fans, especially the female ones.” 

A gaggle of teenage girls in football jerseys, mostly Bayern, Real Madrid and Arsenal shyly approached him during a break on the courts and nudging each other, asked him for an autograph and a selfie. They went away giggling and smiling, whispering to each other about their encounter.

“You seem amused by the entire thing.”

"I don't know, there's always been talk about him, and all the charm and rugged good looks in the world can’t erase that," The journalist, eyeing him speculatively as he and Ana left the Tennis court with Angelique, talking intently between themselves, his hand slipped into hers. He looked relaxed, happy and tanned, freckles starting to come out on his strong features, the blond of his hair starting to lighten in the sun.

She laughed at something he said, a sunny smile breaking out on her face as she allowed him to slip an arm round her waist. A gaggle of fans congregated by the exit, waiting for pictures and autographs and Ana stopped to accommodate as many as she could.

"Talk?" The first journalist said, more interested in the hints that the writer from BILD was throwing out.

"What do you know? Are you guys holding out on us?" his colleague asked.

“Are you trying to imply this relationship, isn't what it seems?”

“They look pretty loved up to me.” remarked one of the journalists, “I don’t think he’s taken his eyes off her all practice, and I’m sure they were having a bit of a cuddle earlier.”

“There’s no doubt he’s far gone, and I don’t really blame him. She’s looking great at the moment, happy and healthy.”

“There’s not a woman on the planet who wouldn’t want to be looked at like that. Damn, I need to find me out some more about this guy-” said the American correspondent, typing rapidly into an iPad, looking for photos of Bastian to put in her report for the network, "-this is the guy, right? The one from the final with the blood streaming down his face like Rocky?"

But the correspondent from BILD wouldn't say anything more revealing, just contenting himself with looking superior and hinting darkly about having 'proof' about things.

*

“Do you really think that they got something on them that we haven’t?” the first journalist said as soon as the BILD writer went away to top up his drink and sneak some more pictures.

“I wouldn’t take too much notice of them, if I were you. If they had any proof, they would publish and be damned; but his people are pretty litigation-happy by the sounds of it, and they would throw the book at them if they couldn’t back their statements up. That BILD correspondent is just trying to wind us all up.”


	3. Chapter 3

They were out for the day at the Twelve Apostles, just enjoying the beautiful scenery, brisk sea air and the sunshine. In the midst of the other tourists ambling up the winding path on the way to the summit, they looked like just another couple, but their idyll ground to a halt when they spotted a phalanx of photographers and reporters lying in wait for them.

The photographers started shouting for them, trying to gain their attention. The flashes of light were blinding as the long lenses of theirs were trained on them, snapping furiously. Their fellow tourists were starting to swivel their heads, wondering who exactly they had in their midst.

"Ana, to me! To me, beautiful!" 

Bastian's hand tightened on hers for a second. He swore under his breath in his native language, exasperated and irritated that their cover had been so publicly blown by the media.

She squeezed back in reassurance. _It's alright,_ she told him silently, _Be cool._

"So much for discretion," he murmured, catching her eye for a moment.

"Let them have their picture and they'll leave us alone.” She gave him an encouraging smile, trying to cajole him back into the good mood he was originally in before the Press descended on them, “If you snap at them, they’ve got their story and that’s exactly what they’ll run with. They can’t harm us here in public.”

Luckily, she was able to to convince him. He decisively took her hand, his stride confident and relaxed once more. She could see the moment he turned on his public persona.

 _If we are going to do this, then let’s give them a performance,_ his whole manner seemed to say clearly.

"Ana, you look gorgeous! Great Christmas?" shouted one journalist in an overly familiar tone of voice.

"I'm so sorry but we're not giving interviews today. We're just doing a little sight-seeing. Maybe another time?" she replied.

"A bit far from home, ain't you Basti?" shouted one journalist in German seeking to engage him and curry some favour.

Basti’s head whipped round the sound of his own familiar language. His brow raised a little at the impertinent familiarity of the reporter, but his voice was perfectly civil and polite as he addressed him, protectively shielding her from their prying eyes. “I am spending time with my ‘dear friend.’

“Liebe Freundin?”

“I trust you will be able to translate for all your friends here, won’t you?” he looked the reporter right in the eye, almost daring him to make a comment about it.

The journalist shook his head almost admiringly as Bastian set him straight.

Switching to English and addressing the other journalists who were hanging round taking in their exchange in German, he gave them all his most outwardly charming smile.

“Just sight-seeing, guys, nothing to see here,” he was polite yet firm as they headed to the summit, leaving the photographer in their wake as they strode forward, “Have a good New Year!”

* * *

She did not want to be that girl, clinging and overbearing, constantly doubting them and their budding relationship, but she had questions that needed answers. Ana didn't think he was in phone contact with his ex - that blond German model. She knew they were fairly bound up in each other - you couldn't set aside seven years of a relationship easily, but Basti had chosen her, wooing her with ardour, going out of his way to fly out to meet her and her family in Belgrade, learning Serbian with enthusiastic if slightly mixed results, even purchasing a property secretly in Belgrade. _He chose me,_ she told herself, though the thought was not that reassuring.

 _If this is going to work, I have to trust him. None of this works if I can't trust him,_ she told herself, ignoring that sour little voice in her head telling her that he had been with Sarah when they'd met and yet they had still got together. _If he could overlap once, could leave her and take the other girl back, could he do it again? I can't go through that all over again, not after all that with Adam. She knew, although she tried not to think about it that some people were not as welcoming and forgiving of their relationship. Dan and Bastian had tried hard to keep the worst of it from her, not wanting his client to be upset, but there had been some rather distressing mail and message that had to be swiftly dealt with._

She rose from the bed and padded towards the door, following the sound of his voice, wondering what exactly she was doing and yet unable to stop herself from doing it.

 _I'm not spying on him,_ she told herself, trying to justify her actions, _I just- I need to know._

*

He was out on the balcony, she could see the glow from his laptop as he talked. Presumably he was on Skype or something. She opened the door just a crack, the merest gap, but he was utterly engrossed in his conversation and hardly noticed. She lingered in the shadows, craning to follow the rapid fire of his German, thoroughly gripped by curiosity and wanting to solve the mystery of these late night calls. For a moment Ana wished she was a great deal more fluent in his native tongue.

"Luki," she heard him say with a tenderness that surprised her.

She very vaguely recognised the face on the screen as one of his team-mates and let out a sigh of relief she didn't know that she was holding.

Of course I should not have doubted him! Now that he was captain of the National team, the players were bound to come to him with their problems. She had to question why on earth they would have to call so damn late, but perhaps they hadn't taken account of the time difference with Australia, Basti was proud of his position and took his responsibilities seriously, she could hardly expect him to ignore a request for aid.

"Is it late?" Luki asked, sounding anxious. "I didn't wake or disturb you, did I? I didn't think-"

Straight away, Bastian hastened to reassure him. "Don't be daft, you don't have to apologise ever, you know I always want to hear from you. Are things-" his voice trailed off.

The face on the screen fell, "Nothing changes, Basti, I didn't expect it to."

She saw him take a deep breath to calm himself at the news, his free hand clenched into a tight fist. _He really cares about this man and his problems, not just as his captain but as a friend._

"He's still not playing you?"

She was seeing a side of her lover she normally didn’t get to see, how he worked and interacted with his teammates and she found it fascinating. She couldn’t have pulled herself away, even if she had wanted to.

"Hardly, just the bare minimum. What he can contractually get away with. Eight, ten minutes a match if I'm lucky."

"And yet they still expect miracles!" Bastian made a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "Have you spoken to him? Asked him what his problem with you is?"

"Basti, I can't even get an appointment to see him!" His deep voice cracked with sheer frustration.

"What about Jogi? Wenger must know how we need your experience in the National squad, that you need regular playing time. Do you think he would listen to him, if not you?" Bastian suggested, trying to find some sort of solution to his friend's problem.

"I don't know, he's stubborn," Lukas said despondently, "I had enough trouble getting the team to release me for National duty. Jogi came to watch that match with Chelsea, came to see me and Mesut play and he put me on for five minutes right at the end when we were already losing. Then there was some 'trouble' in the office with the release forms."

"They would have stopped you from playing for your country?" Basti pushed his glasses back up his nose and sighed, rubbing his temples as if thinking about Lukas's problem is giving him a thumping headache. To her, it was a sign he was tired, as he only really wore his frames when he was exhausted, or had forgotten to put in his contacts.

"I don't know."

"You have to get away from there," Bastian said decisively, "It's appalling. There's teams round the world that would be begging to have your skills at their service. Trust me on this!"

"I wish it were that easy, I really do-"

"Nassim is looking for other teams for you?" Basti urged, trying hard to keep his friend's spirits up and cajole him into a better mood, "Maybe a new start in a different league might do you the world of good. Even if it were just a loan? It would push your quote up, and you'd get some more goals under your belt for this season."

"Yes, but Wenger does not want to sell. He'd rather I just rotted on the bench until the end of my contract, shut up like a good little boy and just took it."

"He can't expect that of you."

"People already think that I am a quitter, a clown," Lukas sighed, "that I spend more time on Twitter than on my football. What else am I meant to do in my free time? I don't go out drinking and partying, my family are still in Köln, I don't get to see my son, my family for weeks on end. Sometimes I have to ask myself, why did I leave Köln? For what?"

She hadn’t realised that he was a family man, living in a different country and separated from his wife and kid. _That was going to be hard enough and she couldn’t help but wonder why none of this was being taken into account._

"Anyone who says that does not know you, and you should not listen to them. Why are you doubting yourself here?" Bastian said staunchly as ever.

"I know it's stupid, but it's hard not to. I can't help but worry if there's any team that will have me after this."

"Luki, don't say-"

"There was this article in the Guardian, talking about if I would get into a decent team, that I don't track back and defend enough, the other guys do and that's why they are ahead of me in the pecking order."

Bastian frowned, "But that's not your job. You're a forward, you're meant to score! Wenger knew your preferred position and what you were capable of when he signed you from Köln. Why is he questioning it now?"

"I know that, but that's not how they see it, unfortunately."

"This happened at Bayern, now it's happening here. What if I haven't got what it takes?"

This was what was so infuriatingly unfair about Lukas’s situation. He obviously judged himself far more harshly than any of the press could ever do and the strain of keeping up a positive face, while his reputation was being dragged into the mire was starting to drag him down.

"They're wrecking your confidence. They're destroying you. It's not right."

*

Ana padded back to bed, before he finished on the laptop. So many questions in her mind now, she was not sure of how to tackle it, or even if she should.

She needed some advice from some friends she could trust.

Eventually she felt the bed shift under his weight as he finally joined her. She was dying of curiosity to know what had happened next, but she managed not to blurt out what she was thinking.

She felt the press of his lips lingering on her bare shoulder-blade, an unspoken apology for his neglect. 

 

Ana was not quite sure of how she was going to bring this up with Bastian. On one hand, she was not sure how he was going to react to finding out that she had eavesdropped on his conversation with Lukas, even though she had just been curious and had meant no harm by it. On the other, if he found out that she had listened in and not brought it up herself, wouldn't that look like she did not trust him?

He was all attentive to her as always during the day as they made their way to court-side, almost as if he were trying to make it up to her in a subconscious way, knowing that he was in a situation where he could truly please neither of them. 

She could have held a grievance and made him sweat, but to be honest, she felt a bit bad for both of them.

 _Perhaps I really am fretting about nothing,_ she thought, but she trusted her instincts and something about this situation told her that there was more to it than met the eye.


End file.
